


I Sense There's Something In The Wind

by Arkie



Series: DJ, Turn Up The F*king Sound [UMY Garbage Court] [8]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Blood and Gore, M/M, Sad, Special mention goes to the Nightmare Before Chrismas, UMY Halloween Event, Urban Magic Yogs, am i forgetting something, brought in a little of that halloween vibe maybe, but not that sad, despite having absolutely nothing to do with it, this feels like far too few tags, umy, which motivated this whole thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 21:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21259841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkie/pseuds/Arkie
Summary: Kelpies do not love.They only feed. They only kill. They only think of the nearest flesh available for their consumption.Smith does not love.Or. Well. Hedidn't.





	I Sense There's Something In The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Title is the first line of Sally's Song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, specifically from the incredible Amy Lee cover. 
> 
> Prompt (courtesy of the UMY Halloween Event 2019, hosted by my wonderful friend): _There's a fine line between love and hate, Smith rides the line and discovers what it means to truly love his court._
> 
> This got a little out of hand. Also, a little (a lot) last minute. But I hope everyone, especially my mysterious prompter, enjoys.

"Smith," Trott groaned into his hands. "_What?_"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time, okay?" Smith insisted, and dodged the fireball that tore through the wall. Then he glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye and lunged. "Ross, no, don't touch that!" He yanked Ross back from the flaming chunk of wall, a hand outstretched in curiosity. 

Ross jumped back, startled. "I-I don't think it hurt'll me?"

"We don't _know _that," Smith impressed on him. He took a hold of his shoulders, levelling their eyes. "Just because it doesn't hurt doesn't mean it doesn't _damage _you, does it?" Ross frowned, processing the statement, while Smith twisted. "We've got to get out of here."

"Oh, you don't say?" Trott raised his arched brows. 

"Shut up," Smith moaned, and lead the charge out the office door, ducking and weaving between bolts of fury thrown overhead. Once on the streets, they broke into a run, using well-worn tactics to lose their pursuer in the busy city. It was a bit like old times. 

\---

_(Kelpies do not love, and do not know love.)_

_(Kelpies think no further than their next meal.) _

\---

"The fuck even possessed you?" Trott murmured later that night, safe and sound in their apartment once more, with an amused curve to his lips that softened his words. Arms crossed, stood an inch from Smith. "We don't know as much as we could about this guy, I thought we agreed we'd play it safe for now."

Smith shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "Got... carried away, I guess. He's a bit of a dick, you know?"

Trott couldn't suppress a smirk. "Well, he _did _just try to blow us to smithereens." 

Smith snorted. "He did. And all I did was ruin his old fancy-arse car he wouldn't shut up about."

Trott snickered and ducked his head in, nose brushing Smith's chest. 

\---

_(They cannot. They should not.) _

\---

Smith brushed a hand into Trott's hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

"I am sorry, though," he muttered. "For what it's worth."

Trott shook his head, and Smith felt his smile. "Don't worry. We'll deal with him like we've dealt with all the others. He's powerful, sure, but there's nothing special to set him apart." Trott tipped his head back, but remained close. 

"He's _nothing_," he murmured into Smith's lips, smirking, "compared to _us_." 

\---

"I'm worried," Ross admitted to the floor, later again. Leant back against a counter, arms wrapped around himself as though to hold himself together. 

"What about?" Smith sighed, when no explanation was extended. He returned a carton of milk to the fridge.

"This guy. This wizard. This _situation_." Then Ross frowned. "Or maybe it's not that. I'm not really sure." 

"Ross," Smith sighed, after a long moment, swinging shut the fridge door and shuffling over. He slumped beside him, and couldn't help reaching up, running fingers through Ross's oddly hard hair. It was as though it was perpetually held in place by gel or wax. Side affect of being a statue come to life, he supposed. It also hadn't grown in all the time he'd known him.

He continued in a mutter. "You heard what Trott said. We've dealt with guys a hell of a lot worse than this."

Ross chewed his lip, and didn't meet his gaze. "Are you sure?"

Smith rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yes, totally. You've literally been around for some of them."

"Sometimes it all comes down to is luck, though," Ross murmured. 

Smith shrugged. "S'always been on our side before."

"Can you promise?" Ross asked. Then his eyes flicked to meet Smith's. "That you'll be okay?" 

Smith's tongue stuck for a moment. He slowly shook his head. "Well... no. I can't promise that, Ross." 

Ross's eyes fell away again, to the floor, with a defeated sort of air, and Smith's heart sank, knowing there was nothing he could say that wouldn't be a lie. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, though. 

So, instead, in distraction for them both, he pressed his lips to Ross's cheek, and watched the consequent intake of breath and blink of shock with delight. All this time, and when faced with affection from either of them, Ross still reacted with absolute awe. 

\---

_(Smith didn't love.)_

_(That changed, and he spent forever wondering how.)_

\---

It went wrong. 

It dissolved into a delving mad chase through underground caverns they hadn't had a clue existed, or exactly where they had lead. They weren't in the city anymore, that was for sure. 

The _thing _just wouldn't stop. It had once been the wizard, but so enraged had he been, he'd donned some awful conjured form - bulging muscle and hard skin, teeth dripping with saliva. Unnaturally fast for his size, and absolutely blinded by animalistic rage. Reason and words - their usual weapons of choice - were rendered useless. 

His lackeys - twiggy, doglike things - zipped and slashed by. Many had been torn apart - Smith's teeth, Ross's nails, and Trott's knives were all soaked in blood. But the pursuit never stopped, never let up for a moment, for a single breath of relief. 

Smith kept flitting between horse and human form, twisting intermittently to beat back the howling thunder at their heels, snapping his jaws and swiping out. Ross had gone into what was essentially robot-mode, unwavering and strength measured, lashing out to slam a dog creature's head into the wall with the side of his rock fist. Its bones buckled instantly, and without pause he turned and swung back out the other side to shove back another before it reached Trott - who may have been faring worst in the deal. Blades weren't well suited to use on the fly, and more than that he was tiring, easily the slowest and weakest of them physically. It was in mind and magic that he was exceptional. In body, he was next to human. 

Smith didn't know where the exit was. He didn't know how they could get out. They'd misjudged this, and he felt the horror of it in every atom of his being. 

The others _had _to get out. They _had _to. 

Then canine jaws closed around Smith's shoulder and he stumbled and threw the horrid thing off, a chunk of his own flesh going with it. Blood soaked his clothes instantly as pain exploded and he slapped a hand over the wound - but the turn had also lead him to glimpse the scene behind them: a fresh wave of snarling jaws and black eyes. It loomed; not a spec of light, consuming all in their rolling mass of not-quite-ordinary bodies. And beyond them, only more; waves upon waves. Somewhere in their midst, their deranged master bound closer with each step.

The wave descended. 

They wouldn't reach the surface before the horde overwhelmed them.

Smith made a decision. 

He grabbed Trott and threw him at Ross, who was about to reach the next passageway's entrance. Smith didn't pause to see what became of them - he spun and took out as many of the creatures with a single swipe as he could, then switched form to bring down hooves on the remains and tear off a few limbs with his teeth and fling them wide. 

A few seconds' relief came, immediate vicinity swept clean, and in it Trott shouted "Smith!" Smith looked up, shifting back to human, to see both of them frozen in the hallway. Ross's fingers lingered loosely on Trott, having caught him. "Come on!"

Smith only slashed a hand in their general direction. "GO!" The hulking form of the beast drew near. Slamming, slanted steps and a roar of fury echoed with the clamour of a thousand tiny shadow creatures cramming through into the small chamber.

Trott froze, and Smith knew he understood. "What?"

"Go, I'll give you time!" Smith shouted back, sizing up the enormous form approaching. Time, it was all about time. 

"_What?_" Trott shrieked, louder. 

"Ross!" Smith shouted over him instead, turning back to meet Ross's stone-blue eyes. He looked petrified. Mouth parted slightly, eyes wide.

He felt everything so deeply, and so easily. Smith _hated _to put this on him. But he held his gaze carefully, and spoke the words low, and direct. "You know what to do." 

Slowly, wordlessly, as though moving with all the weight of the world, Ross nodded. 

"Smith," Trott muttered, shaking his head, in disbelief, in horror. "_Smith_." And then Smith made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and knew exactly what he was envisioning. A beach. A clearing in a nighttime park. Tyrannical city empires razed by the dozen. All together. 

"I love you both," Smith allowed out in a rush, glancing back. Pandemonium growing, floor shaking. This had to be quick. 

"No." Trott's breaths came quicker, more uneven. Panicking. "No. Smith, don't--. I can't--." He cut himself off, mouth moving without words. 

"Take care of each other," Smith instructed, and exhaled, bracing - eyes on the approaching danger. Breaking point. 

He swept a violent hand back at the passageway without meeting their gazes. "GO, NOW, GO!" 

He tried not to look - he tried not to see Trott's lunge and corresponding shriek - (_"NO! SMITH! NO!"_) - and Ross's equal grab, arms closing around him in restraint, and both their wretched expressions. Tears in both their eyes; fury in Trott's; an awful, sinking sense of responsibility in Ross's. Horror and fear in both. 

Ross dragged Trott away as he kicked and screamed, and Smith did what it took to force himself not to watch as they vanished into the following passage of darkness. He stared up at the vicious and engorged thing that was once a man, and his eyes skipped from place to place in search of weak spots. Automatic; a thousand years of fights. He had a funny feeling this thing didn't have actually any, but it was worth a try. 

He unhinged his jaw with a grinding _crunch, _and let loose a low growl, releasing all hold on his admittedly already questionable humanity in honour of his final moments. 

For near as long as he'd known Trott he'd known he'd die for him. Then, later, that he'd die for them both. It was inevitable. Long lived as he was, and by extension, Trott. And Ross was quite literally immortal. The life they lived together was unerringly dangerous, and unerringly worth it. 

His demise approached by pounding, wall-wracking footsteps, and he smiled. A too-wide, bloodthirsty, and anticipatory smile.

He'd done it. He'd fulfilled his purpose. He hadn't had one for so long, and then he did, and now it was done. 

What better joy than that? What better _peace_?

They met - he leant in. A clash of snarls and fangs and nails and fists and strength. And then the dogs piled on, snapping and tearing and spit flying. Every square centimetre of muscle and will around him wished him nothing but the worst of deaths; pain filled every inch of his body as bits of him were ripped from their sockets and his skin flayed free, spraying blood, and he smiled, because it was worth it. 

He wouldn't go down without a fight, that was for sure. But it wasn't at all for his sake. It was for theirs. And he couldn't think of better end. It would have been nice if it had gone on a little longer, maybe, but perhaps that wasn't his choice to make. 

This, though, was his choice. And he chose to give them their chance. 

\---

_(Kelpies do love. Of course they do.)_

_(Younglings are taught differently. Gradually, they believe it. It's a convenient thing to do; a defence and a better chance of being willing to do whatever it takes to survive.)_

_(But there's nothing alive that does not love.)_

_(Nor, in fact, anything dead.)_

**Author's Note:**

> But did it work? Did he save them? Smith'll never know, and now neither will you...
> 
> ((Just kidding, I'm not that evil. He did.))
> 
> PS: Smith's _'you know what to do'_ line to Ross refers to a little detail revealed in part two of my main UMY series, and Ross's gradual understanding thereafter.


End file.
